'You KNOW I
don't, Toad. But I THINK about it,' he added pathetically, in a lower
tone: 'I think about it--all the time!'
The Mole reached out from under his blanket, felt for the Rat's paw in
the darkness, and gave it a squeeze. 'I'll do whatever you like,
Ratty,' he whispered. 'Shall we run away to-morrow morning, quite
early--VERY early--and go back to our dear old hole on the river?'
'No, no, we'll see it out,' whispered back the Rat. 'Thanks awfully,
but I ought to stick by Toad till this trip is ended. It wouldn't be
safe for him to be left to himself. It won't take very long. His
fads never do. Good night!'
The end was indeed nearer than even the Rat suspected.
After so much open air and excitement the Toad slept very soundly, and
no amount of shaking could rouse him out of bed next morning. So the
Mole and Rat turned to, quietly and manfully, and while the Rat saw to
the horse, and lit a fire, and cleaned last night's cups and platters,
and got things ready for breakfast, the Mole trudged off to the
nearest village, a long way off, for milk and eggs and various
necessaries the Toad had, of course, forgotten to provide.
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